“Unlicked cub, that!” he said, not much caring whether the subject of his remark heard it or not.
The guileless and grateful Mr. Denison demurred at this, and Ned did not think the point worth discussing.
“I suppose you didn’t come up to talk about dogs?” he asked, drily.
“Why, no. As a matter of fact,” said Mr. Denison, with the hesitation of a person unused to come straight to the point, “I have heard odd reports about; I—I—”
“Have come to the wrong shop, Mr. Denison, if you expect to hear any village gossip from me.”
“Quite so, quite so. But everybody knows now why you’re here,” said Mr. Denison. “And as the man they say you’re after is an admirer of my daughter’s—”
“‘They say’ a lot of things, Mr. Denison, which I’d advise you not to listen to.”
“But I’ve been quite discourteous to this gentleman on the strength of your suspicions!”
“Well, I should find some stronger ground to go upon before I was discourteous again.”
“Then you don’t believe these dreadful stories?”